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The house stood empty, still and silent. The ticking of the wall clock filled the living room. I stopped a metre or so from the grey piano in the confidence three day delivery viagra living room. A flimsy picture rested against the piano’s music stand. The picture portrayed Christ as a king wearing a regal cloak and crown of red and gold against a background of golden rays. I stared at the picture and wondered how different artists portrayed Jesus in different ways. Sometimes He looked welcoming and friendly, sometimes powerful and best dose for daily cialis searches regal, and sometimes hurt and bloodied.

“I am who am.” What an odd sentence! Whatever did it mean? It’s not really a sentence at all, she suspected, as it didn’t make sense. There was nothing concrete in it — no substance, she might have said. Scripture did not usually make such complete nonsense to her child’s mind, for Scripture usually was story, or at least image — something graspable by the mind. What kind of ridiculousness had God set in His holy books, and what kind of a name was that? Imagine having a sentence for a name!

Do men ever have real ultimate responsibility for their actions? This question can motivate a more fundamental debate about human freedom. By looking specifically at the human experience of guilt, however, we can argue for an answer to this question. In common practice, we treat guilt as though there are two distinct possibilities: either it is justified, and we are truly and ultimately responsible for some bad result to one’s actions, or it is unjustified and we are not responsible for what happened.